


Playdates

by Comicbooklovergreen



Series: More than One Kind of Soulmate [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Carol (2015), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: 50's Power Couples, And Trios, Confusion, Crossover, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, Found Familes, Multi, Polyamory, Stegginelli, established relationships - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7172066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicbooklovergreen/pseuds/Comicbooklovergreen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rindy befriends little Lizzie Rogers at the park. Therese meets her mother, Peggy. Things get confusing when Carol meets her other mother, Angie. Steve? He’s just happy all his girls have made such good friends. </p><p>And Therese thought what she had built with Carol was the most taboo thing she'd ever encounter…</p><p>Or, two unconventional families form an unbreakable bond. First in a series tracing a friendship and a family through the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loosely connected to my other Stegginelli works, though it's not essential to have read those to get this.

Therese used to dread being alone with Rindy. It felt so much like a test, though that was all her doing, not Carol’s. Carol was forever the one insisting that everything would be fine, how could the two girls she loved so much not love each other? Still. Therese had nearly driven herself into a panic, newfound confidence be damned.

That first time at the park was particularly nerve-wracking. The place had seemed larger than it was, with a thousand ways for Rindy to disappear under her watch. Therese never had to worry much about the consequences of falling into her own mind before, losing herself in thought. She’d never been left in charge of a just-turned-five-year-old either, much less the most important five-year-old in the entire world. Because that’s who Rindy was, to Carol, and, by extension, Therese. And dear God, what would Carol do and think and say if Therese failed at the most important job in the entire world, taking care of Rindy?

Therese still maintained she’d had a minor stroke when Rindy’s hand slipped momentarily on the monkey bars before she giggled and corrected herself. When Carol joined them there later, after a meeting with potential buyers had ended, she’d looked genuinely concerned for Therese, though Rindy was happy as anything, not a mark on her.

“It was supposed to be a nice day at the park,” Carol said later. “Darling, you look like you’ve barely survived a warzone.”

Therese hadn’t much appreciated the laughter in Carol’s voice, not then. A few months later, with nothing more than what Carol promised were the usual scrapes and bruises for any child, and Therese could look back on that day with some amount of humor. More importantly, she could enjoy today’s visit to that same park without white-knuckling the bench and struggling to remember everything she knew about first aid.

Rindy had been flitting between friends since they arrived. Therese recognized some children, not others. Though somewhat shy with adults, Rindy was open and playful with kids her own age, so it wasn’t unusual for her to interact with so many friends, old and new. The last while though, she’d stuck close to one girl in particular, someone Therese didn’t remember seeing before. Smaller than Rindy, probably younger, though she had no trouble keeping up. Rindy’s new friend had blonde curls and, from what Therese could hear over the chatter of other kids, a sweet laugh.

Keeping one eye on Rindy, Therese found herself scanning the park for whoever was responsible for the other girl. On a bench not far from hers, Therese spotted a woman she hadn’t noticed before. Which was a bit startling, considering how beautiful the stranger was. Dark hair, gorgeous, wearing a shade of red lipstick Carol would envy.

From what she could see, the woman looked nothing like Rindy’s friend, but Therese tracked her eye line, knew they were watching the same pair. She had a few seconds to wonder, be curious, then curiosity turned to embarrassment as the other woman looked right at her.

Therese ducked her eyes, hoping she wasn’t blushing and knowing she was. She’d met the stranger’s eyes for all of half a moment, but got the distinct, inexplicable impression that the woman had been aware of her scrutiny long before their gazes locked. Again, she didn’t have time to sit with her feelings for too long, because suddenly Rindy was barreling toward her, new friend at her heels.

“This is Aunt Therese,” Rindy said to the smaller girl, both of them grinning. “Aunt Therese lives with my mommy now that my mommy doesn’t live with my daddy anymore.”

With that enthusiastic but slightly painful introduction hanging over her, Therese tried not to fidget as she smiled at both girls. “Hi,” she said, still not terribly used to being with children who weren’t Rindy. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Hi. I’m Lizzie,” the girl replied with no signs of shyness. “Can I see your camera, please?”

Therese blinked, then felt like even more of a fool as she remembered the camera strap around her neck. She’d grown so used to carrying Carol’s first gift to her that she barely thought of it anymore. Therese opened her mouth to answer, but someone beat her to it.

“Lizzie, darling.”

The voice was kind enough, but with a hint of warning. And British. That voice was very, very British. Therese looked up from the camera to find the slightly older, very gorgeous, very British woman she’d been shamelessly staring at approaching her.

“I said please, Mommy, promise.” Lizzie looked at Therese. “Didn’t I say please?”

“You did. She did.” Therese said, eyes moving from Lizzie to her mother. Her mother with a British accent, who looked nothing like her. Who Therese had been caught red-handed staring at. If it would make a difference, she would’ve pleaded for someone or something to swallow her down into the grass under their feet.

“You did indeed,” said the woman before turning her attention to Therese. “I’m very sorry if she’s bothered you.”

“She hasn’t,” Therese said honestly.

“Mommy, Mommy, this is Rindy.”

Those red lips that Therese absolutely did not notice curved into a smile as the stranger bent to be nearer to Rindy’s level. “Well hello, Rindy, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Rindy’s smile turned slightly nervous, but she didn’t shrink toward Therese, as she sometimes did with Carol when meeting new people. “Your voice is funny. In a nice way.”

“Rindy…” Therese wasn’t very skilled at scolding Rindy yet, especially for something that was meant to be a compliment.

The woman just laughed and thanked her before standing to her full height again.

“Mommy, this is Aunt Therese,” Lizzie said. “She lives with Rindy’s mommy now that Rindy’s mommy doesn’t live with Rindy’s daddy anymore.”

Was it possible to be charmed and mortified at the same time? Apparently. Therese was devising reasons to leave before Lizzie finished talking, but the woman’s expression showed no signs of anything Therese expected to find there. Still, she wondered if the girls wouldn’t like to play in the dirt for a bit, dig that hole which was taking far too long to swallow her up.

“Therese is fine,” she said instead of asking that question, holding out her hand. “The rest is a bit of a mouthful.”

The woman chuckled again and they shook. “Yes well, this one has quite the talent for creating mouthfuls,” she said, free hand touching Lizzie’s shoulder. “Peggy,” she said in a belated introduction.

“Peggy,” Therese repeated, instantly deciding that the name suited her, and almost-instantly realizing how absurd that was. She was hardly qualified to know what did or didn’t suit Peggy. She did, however, have eyes, and therefore noticed the perfectly manicured red nails on the hand that grasped hers. She tried not to compare that red, that flawlessness, to Carol’s own shade of nail polish. She failed. If the color wasn’t an exact match, the difference was minimal.

“Can I see your camera, please?” Lizzie asked.

The repeated question caught Therese’s attention, but not for long.

“Lizzie,” Peggy said. “Those aren’t toys.”

“She knows,” Rindy said, with the confidence of someone who’d known Lizzie far longer than twenty minutes. “I told her what mommy tells me.”

“And what’s that, darling?”

The last word was as warm and casual and accented as all the others. Therese tried not to shiver at hearing it a second time in as many minutes.

“That Aunt Therese’s camera is one of her favorite things in the whole world and she needs it for work and she’d be sad if it got broken, so I have to be very careful with it.”

Therese caught a hint of something in Peggy’s eyes. She didn’t understand it, and the girls seemed blissfully unaware. “It’s fine, if she wants to have a look.”

An odd moment passed, Lizzie bouncing on the balls of her feet, awaiting Peggy’s answer. Therese found herself waiting and watching just as intently, though she had no idea why.

“All right then. But you’ll be very, very careful.”

Slipping the strap from her neck, Therese passed the camera over. She started to explain how it was to be held, how the various parts functioned, but Rindy beat her to it, reciting with expertise and enthusiasm everything Therese had ever told her about the camera. Leaning back on the bench, Therese experienced a kind of pride she couldn’t express because she’d never felt it before. She thought maybe that this was how Carol felt when Rindy counted out her brushstrokes so perfectly every night, reciting the numbers just as her mother had taught.

Rindy was still explaining about the camera. Once she’d finally run out of things to say, Peggy favored her with another smile. “Well. You certainly do know your cameras.”

“Just this one. Aunt Therese knows about all of them though.”

Therese laughed and blushed, flattered by the inaccurate praise.

“My uncle made a camera out of a pen,” Lizzie declared. “And a flying car. The pen works better than the car though.”

“Does he make trains? I have a trainset. Aunt Therese knows all kinds about trainsets too.”

“I don’t know. Probably. He makes lots of stuff.”

Therese had time to wonder if this uncle was of the biological, or Abby variety, if he was some kind of toymaker, if she’d ever wrapped up any of his creations during her Frankenberg’s days.

“Aunt Therese, can you take a picture of us?”

Another odd moment. Lizzie shot her mother a glance, and Peggy looked at the camera. Therese started to change the subject, though she opened her mouth without knowing what would come out.

“Go on then, if you don’t mind. I’ve yet to see this one refuse a photo op.”

Peggy ran affectionate fingers through Lizzie’s hair, spoke with an ease that made Therese question herself, if she wasn’t making things too complicated, seeing things that weren’t there.

The girls giggled and yelled and crowded in next to each other, making silly faces. Therese smiled along with them, caught herself taking shot after shot of the antics, and then stopped. Lowering the camera, she almost apologized to Peggy, though she wasn’t quite sure why.

The kids scampered off moments later, attention caught by some new form of adventure. Therese watched them, then rushed to move aside when Peggy asked if she minded company.

“I’m sorry about the camera,” Therese blurted, losing that battle with the apology.

Peggy smiled. “That’s hardly necessary. Did I hear that you use it for work?”

The question was casual enough, but Therese swore she heard an undercurrent there. “Well yes, technically.”

“Technically?”

Therese explained about the job at the paper, how she’d yet to actually sell a picture, how it was more about organizing the work of the real photographers. And, fetching coffee. That happened often.

Peggy chuckled. “Well, I suppose some things are the same across most professions.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve served more coffee, taken more lunch orders, than I care to remember.”

“You don’t seem the type to take lunch orders.”

“Most women are the type to take lunch orders. Until they prove they aren’t. Which takes much longer than it should, in my experience, but there’s something to be said for paying your dues.”

“Are you speaking from experience on that, too?”

“Are you asking if chasing after Lizzie is my only occupation?”

Therese shrugged, lips quirking. “You don’t seem the lunch order type,” she repeated.

Peggy made vague reference to cleaning up other people’s messes, making sure things were done as they should be. Peggy asked more about Therese’s work, which led to mention of her brief time at Frankenberg’s. Therese remarked, quite honestly, about how polite and well-behaved Lizzie seemed, remembering some of the more…rambunctious children she’d seen at the department store.

“Oh, she is that,” Peggy said dryly. “Among many, many other things, great actress included.”

They talked briefly of Rindy, making Therese wish Carol was there. Carol was so much better at explaining how lovely Rindy was, but Peggy seemed to understand. Therese was shocked to learn that Lizzie hadn’t yet turned three. The girl spoke incredibly well for her age compared to some of Rindy’s other, older playmates.

“Good genes,” Peggy said “And chatty adult influences."

Therese assumed that was a reference to Lizzie’s father, because Peggy certainly wasn’t talking her ear off. Aside from their brief but pleasant small talk, they said little after the kids ran off. Silences rarely bothered Therese and it seemed the same for Peggy. Their quiet was easy and lasted until Therese glanced at her watch and saw it was almost time to meet Carol back at the apartment.

Rindy and Lizzie were reluctant to part, the latter asking about the pictures Therese took, how and when she would see them. Peggy said she was sure they’d see each other again soon, after Therese had had time to develop them.

It was only after she’d left with Rindy, and a promise to come back next week, that it hit Therese again. Peggy had asked more questions about Therese’s work and the camera than she had about why Therese was living with an unmarried woman and taking her child to the park.

She also realized that, while she’d told Peggy bits and pieces of her life, more than she’d intended to really, Peggy had reciprocated to the barest minimum.

It seemed she had a pattern of stumbling into older, attractive, frustratingly mysterious women.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Tumblr. Hit me up with prompts, headcanons, etc. 
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

The pleasant Sunday afternoon, the warmth, the shrieks of happy children, Carol’s mood was a sharp contrast to all of it. She’d taken her usual bench at the park after Rindy spotted a friend and went running. Carol tried not to ache inside as her daughter took off. Tried to be in the moment, not think of how often she was forced into that position, watching Rindy move away from her.

It was silly and she knew it, wasting what time she had left of this visit on self-pity. She was, as Abby would say, “in one of those moods.” Said moods were usually accompanied by a glass of rye, which Abby and Therese both scolded her for, claiming it added to her depression. Lacking anything alcoholic, Carol settled for a cigarette instead.

She’d missed visiting here last week with Therese and Rindy because of the fledgling furniture shop and two very stubborn, very important buyers. And then the deal was made and both of her girls came home safe and happy, and Carol forgot about everything else.

That was last week. This week the deal fell through for reasons she had yet to understand, even after nearly an hour of heated discussion. Then Harge announced that he’d be taking Rindy back early today, that their next visit was off. His reasons were vague, but Carol understood them well enough, especially when she pressed for clarity and he reminded her how generous he was being, how the time she did get with Rindy was more than what she was owed.

It was infuriating, the notion of being _owed_ time with her child. She wondered how long this would last, Harge exercising control over her through Rindy. Too long, she was certain, and the thought of it, the back and forth and push and pull and cancelled plans and dashed hopes, it was particularly exhausting today. _She_ was particularly exhausted, and not even the sight of Rindy smiling and running after her blonde, slightly smaller friend was enough to pull her out of it. She was worn down, couldn’t stomach the thought of dealing with anything or anyone.

“Hey, mind if I take a load off?”

Carol blinked, realized she’d closed her eyes and left them that way a few seconds too long. She must have, because suddenly there was a woman with brownish-blonde curls and a too-bright smile standing in front of her. And then she wasn’t standing, because she’d taken a seat on the bench without waiting for Carol’s response.

“Nice day, isn’t it? My kid loves this place, lemme tell you. She’d drag me here every day if she could, including the really horrible ones when no sane person would be outside. Remember a few weeks back, when it just rained and rained and it looked like we might have to whip up an ark to survive it? There’s Lizzie, jumpin all over my bed and my ribs, askin what time we’re headed to the park. That girl, no sense of self preservation. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised though. Kids get stuff from their parents, right? Did you need a light for that?”

It took Carol several long moments to realize that the cigarette between her lips remained unlit. She’d been distracted, by her melancholy, then by this stranger’s verbal assault. “I,” Carol faltered in a way that made her more grateful than usual not to be in the presence of her former mother-in-law. “No, no thank you,” she said, fishing out her own lighter.

“Well, good, because I don’t actually have one. Smoking’s bad for the pipes,” the other woman said, gesturing quickly at her throat, “so I only indulge on especially special days. Looks like you might be having one of those…?”

Again it took too long for Carol to answer, to understand she was being asked a question. “Carol,” she said once it finally sank in. “And yes, yes I suppose I am.”

The stranger nodded. “Sure as hell look it. No offense, you also look great. Obviously.”

Obviously. Carol felt sure that she was blinking too much, not quite as sure about whether this woman, older than Therese, she thought but definitely younger than herself, was hitting on her. “None taken.”

In the next few seconds, Carol was hit with a deluge of information, most of which she wouldn’t process until later. The woman’s name was Angie. Her child’s name was Lizzie or Elizabeth, depending on the day, and the child’s mood. Her child was also the one Rindy had run to so eagerly. She was “tryin to be an actress” when not looking after said child, which was why she generally preferred her “pipes” smoke-free.

Carol was still sorting all that out when Angie turned the tables. She’d had a math teacher in grade school who was very fond of memorization, drilling students in the art of quick, automatic responses. Speaking to Angie was a bit like reuniting with that teacher. The questions were rapid fire, and Carol answered reflexively. While Mrs. Lomac wore a constant scowl whether the answer was right or wrong, Angie’s smile never dimmed.

Before she quite knew it was happening, Carol had explained that she was divorced, that Rindy was an only child, that she lived near here now, but in New Jersey during her marriage.

“Jersey, huh? Same here. I have family there anyway, spent a lot of time. Somethin tells me we were livin in two different Jerseys though.”

Dimly, Carol recalled something Therese mentioned about that first drive they’d taken, Richard’s concern for Therese’s safety on the cruel streets of Ridgewood. She didn’t doubt Angie’s remark in the least.

“Anyway, my kid’s really taken a shine to your kid.”

Carol glanced away long enough to spot Rindy and Lizzie laughing near the seesaw. Her smile wasn’t the beaming kind Angie wore, she knew that, but it was genuine. “Well, my kid seems quite fond of yours as well.”

“I’m glad. Older ones, they don’t always want a little one taggin along, and Lizzie can be a little much when you first meet her, comes on stronger than some people like.”

“You don’t say.”

“She’s been raving on your daughter all week. Rindy this and Rindy that. That and the camera. She’s in that phase where she wants to know everything about everything, and she _loved_ that camera. Kinda surprised you don’t have it on you.”

Carol had only just realized what the mix-up was (her brain seemed perpetually unprepared to keep up with this woman), when Rindy and Lizzie abandoned the seesaw, racing each other to their next distraction. Their route took them closer to the bench Carol and Angie shared, providing a fleeting but improved view of both kids.

“She looks like you,” Angie said.

Carol was more than a little surprised. “Does she?”

“Oh yeah. Eyes, mouth. Bet if I pulled the right kinda smile out of you, you’d be twins.”

Carol wondered what “the right kinda smile” meant, nearly asked. Instead she said, “You think so? Most people don’t see it.” Therese being the notable exception.

“Most people don’t see what’s right in front of their face. Literally, in my cousin’s case.”

“Oh?”

And then Angie was off, explaining about a cousin Luca who’d gone off to war, and his faithful wife Gina, who hadn’t been terribly faithful.

“So Luca tells his best bud Antonio to look out for his girl. And Antonio, he’s a loyal guy, not gonna shirk an important job like that. He looks out for her real well, real close. And the week before Luca comes home, who do you think comes poundin on my door whining about morning sickness?”

“Gina?” Carol asked, not quite believing the conversation was happening. Even Abby wasn’t this free with inappropriate gossip. Not with strangers anyway, not when sober.

“Right in one, Jersey. Well, you can imagine, Gina was sure to welcome him home real well, plenty of times. Figures no one has to know just how serious Antonio took his ‘protection’ duties while my cousin was away. Never mind that if they’d used protection in the first place, whole mess coulda been avoided.”

“Right," Carol said because Angie had paused and seemed to be waiting for comment. She remembered the whispered, heavily-coded talks with the other wives at Harge’s business functions, and wondered how exactly she’d gotten here.

“So the kid comes out, and what happens? He’s got Antonio’s nose. Big nose, very distinctive. Not that anyone noticed that right away, kid was breach. Didn’t surprise me at all, Tony and Gina’s kid comin out ass-backwards, moonin everybody. Once they turn him around though? There’s that nose. Also, two shades darker than Gina or Luca. But does Luca notice that huge thing tacked onto his kid’s face? Well, ignorance is bliss, right?”

“Right,” Carol said, sure she sounded less than intelligent right then. Which New Jersey had Angie been in while Carol drank away her boredom at those society parties? Carol suddenly wanted nothing more than to unleash this refreshingly strange woman on Harge, his parents, all the people she’d wasted too many nights with, nights she could’ve spent with Rindy. The chaos would be glorious.

The next few minutes passed much like the first, Angie talking and Carol trying to keep up. She stopped caring about how utterly bemused she must look, because Angie didn’t seem to. She guessed Angie was used to seeing that expression.

Rindy was disappointed when it came time to go home, prepare for her father’s arrival. So was Carol, honestly. Angie had made her forget completely her frustration with the world, with Harge. Angie said it’s been great talking to her, and to bring the camera and photos next time. Carol didn’t think she’d spoken much at all, but Angie’s enjoyment of her company seemed genuine.

“See you around, Jersey!” served as Angie’s goodbye.

It was only later, approaching their apartment building with Rindy’s hand swinging exaggeratedly in hers, that Carol remembered several things at once. One, she was supposed to pick up milk on her way back while Therese raced a deadline, locked in her darkroom. Two, Therese had described Lizzie’s mother as pleasant. And quiet. Reserved, maybe. Quiet and reserved were definitely descriptors Therese used.

And three, hadn’t Therese said that the woman in the park was British?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Tumblr. Hit me up with prompts, headcanons, etc. 
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos. That'll do it for this particular story, but I have future plans for all these characters. Thanks so much for supporting my first crossover attempt in a lonnnggg time. You guys rock :)

It wasn’t as if they never fought, that would be too much to hope for even in Therese’s most starry eyed of moments. The occurrences were pleasantly rare though, which was fortunate since part of her still worried that every disagreement would be the last. That she’d wake up to find Carol gone, her own bags packed, a note telling her to clear out by the time Carol returned from work.

Therese shook herself out of those thoughts. They didn’t matter, they were false. Eventually she’d believe that enough to make them go away for good. She hoped. Anyway, it didn’t matter because this wasn’t a fight or a disagreement or…she didn’t exactly know what this was, besides the obvious. Confusing.

They had established, after some puzzling and back and forth, that they were both discussing the mother of Rindy’s friend Lizzie. They had further established (and thank God Therese had those pictures of the kids together) that there was only one Lizzie, that the relatively common name wasn’t behind this mess.

Beyond that, things got tricky.

“You’re sure this was her mother, not an aunt or someone?” Therese asked, handing Carol a bowl. She was washing the dishes, Carol was drying, and they were no closer to solving this than they’d been before her hands turned to prunes and she’d nearly cut herself on that steak knife.

“The girl was the spitting image of her.”

“Doesn’t mean she couldn’t be a different relative.”

“’My kid’s really taken a shine to your kid,’” Carol said. “Exact words that don’t leave room for other relatives.”

And so, the stumbling block. Again. Angie supposedly looked like the girl and claimed her. But, as Therese pointed out, again, Lizzie had referred to Peggy as her mother. Many times.

“Dark hair, younger than you, older than me,” Therese recited. Again. “Quiet. Wary, I guess, wary of strangers? Gorgeous accent though.”

“Gorgeous, was it? I thought you said she was quiet? Gorgeous indeed, if she left such an impression with so few words.”

Therese blushed. Carol’s lips were quirked, painted the usual red so similar to Peggy’s. “It was distinctive,” Therese muttered, passing Carol a plate with suds still clinging.

“Must’ve been. You’ve mentioned it several times.”

“Just like you’ve mentioned how ‘refreshingly open’ this other woman was.”

“I only said she was talkative. Wary of strangers? Definitely not.”

Therese paused in the act of scrubbing one of their dinner plates. “You called her a ray of sunshine, Carol.”

“I did not! All I said was that I’d had a bad day—“

“—and she was ‘refreshingly open’ and brightened it up. Like a tiny, talkative ray of sunshine.”

Carol smacked her shoulder with a dishtowel and Therese grinned. It felt good to retaliate, not to be always at the mercy of Carol and her teasing.

“Well. She told me more than I’d ever think to ask about her family in New Jersey, and lacked any gorgeously _distinctive_ British accent.”

Therese rolled her eyes. “So, ray of sunshine with a Jersey accent.”

What followed was a truly pointless, only moderately amusing discussion in which Carol accused her of being taken with this quiet older woman from Britain (Therese presumed), and Therese accused Carol of being taken with this chatty younger woman from New Jersey. Carol corrected her there, said she wasn’t sure Angie hailed from New Jersey, only that she had family there. And then Carol started talking about people named Gina and Luca and Antonio, and Therese held up another plate, using it as a shield before handing it off.

“I thought you said you only talked to her a few minutes.”

“I did. If the people in your office typed half as fast as this woman talked, the _Times_ could put out an edition for every hour of the day.”

Therese made a point of shuddering. “How awful. You’d never see me. I’d be trapped at work. You’d have to spend all your weekends looking for refreshingly open women at the park.”

Carol smacked her with the towel again.

Realizing that the dishes were done, her fingers were wrinkled beyond recognition, and they still hadn’t solved anything, Therese stole the towel Carol had been attacking her with. “This is completely absurd, you know. She can’t have two mothers.”

It didn’t hit until after she’d said it, what she actually said. Carol paused in the act of setting a last wineglass in the cupboard. She held it between her fingers. They shared a look, one of those special, silent looks first traded on that road trip that changed everything. Carol broke first, chuckling into the empty glass as if she’d drained it many times over. Therese lasted maybe two or three seconds longer.

Oh.

Well then.

* * *

 

Therese might’ve been just as excited as Rindy to get back to the park, though she hoped her feelings weren’t as obvious.

Walking between Therese and Carol, Rindy held hands with both, swinging their arms back and forth in an exaggerated motion. She’d missed last weekend with them, for that undisclosed reason Carol had muttered and cursed about the day she met Angie.

There’d been no good reason to visit the park last weekend, confirm their theory. Now, now Therese had the photos of Rindy and her friend in hand, the ones taken two weeks earlier, the day she met Peggy. And now, with any luck, they’d run into Lizzie and at least one of her mothers.

It thrilled Therese more than she would’ve thought, the possibility of meeting another couple like them. Abby often brought around her latest fling, but that was different. A couple with a child close to Rindy’s age, one they’d just stumbled into…well. It would be nice if it were true, feeling a little less alone in the way they lived their lives.

Rindy hummed to herself as they walked, a new song learned at school three days before. The sound broke off suddenly and Therese felt the tiny fingers around hers go tight with anticipation.

“Mommy, Aunt Therese, look!”

Therese looked, following Rindy’s eye line to a bench not far off. Lizzie was there, almost bouncing where she sat. Her shoe had come untied. There was a man knelt in front of her, lacing it up. Even in that position, Therese could see he was tall. Big, and not like Norman at the office, whose lunch order was always twice the size of the other men. He wore a baseball cap and placed a hand on Lizzie’s knee, as if to stall her fidgeting. But Rindy’s voice had carried, and now she had Lizzie’s attention.

“Daddy, hurry up!”

Daddy.

Lizzie bolted moments later, making a beeline for them. She was already talking, saying hi, asking why Rindy hadn’t come last week, asking if “Miss Aunt Therese” had the camera again, the photos.

All this was said while Lizzie half ran, half skipped toward them. Therese glanced at Carol, then her eyes returned to the man in the cap. Daddy. He jogged after Lizzie with long, easy strides, catching her in what seemed a blink. Taking her hand, he slowed her progress without stopping it. Waving with his free hand, he shrugged his shoulders in what Therese guessed was an apology, offered a smile as he removed the cap. The hair underneath was blonde, lighter than Lizzie’s. Even from here, Therese saw the bright blue eyes set into his handsome face. Eyes that matched Lizzie’s. She shared another glance with Carol, who returned his wave with a slightly frozen expression.

Oh.

Well then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Tumblr. Hit me up with prompts, headcanons, etc. 
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr. Hit me up with prompts, headcanons, etc. 
> 
> http://cblgblog.tumblr.com/


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